


Sionnachuighim

by ThePsuedonym



Category: Teen Titans Go!
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Foxes, Gen, Internal Swearing, Leprechauns, Not A Leprechaun, Rainbows, Shapeshifting, St. Patrick's Day, Traveling via Rainbows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-26 15:22:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6245035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePsuedonym/pseuds/ThePsuedonym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin is not a leprechaun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sionnachuighim

[Sionnachuighim](http://forvo.com/word/sionnachuighim/) [shah-nah-wheen] (rhymes with 'queen') _phrase_ ; Irish, "I play the fox" or "I play tricks"

 

Once again, and not for the first time in his life, Robin wondered just where it all went wrong. In truth, there were a number of instances in his short life that stood out clearly and accusingly – September 26th was probably the biggest and most menacing of them all. But nothing in particular stood out in his mind when he thought of possible causes of this specific emerging clusterfuck.

That was a good descriptor for what the day was becoming, clusterfuck. This looming situation, the team that was the Teen Titans, his life in general; they were all one huge _clusterfuck_.

Also not for the first time, he was sincerely grateful that no one else on his team could read his mind. Or that they chose to respect his privacy and not do so, or some bullshit reason like that; in truth Raven probably thought it was too much trouble to bother invading his headspace, unless there was some sort of crisis going on (and even then she would be hesitant, he was sure).

In the second-and-a-half that it took to complete that entire train of thought, Robin very carefully set his mug onto the countertop, he didn’t want to spill his drink, after all, and turned to face the aforementioned sorceress who had just so happened to spark his irritation in this particular instance.

She stared serenely back at him, a know-it-all little smile on her face that easily told him that she knew that he knew that she knew she had struck a nerve, even if she didn’t know why her words had done so. He considered lacing his fingers together to keep himself from strangling her, or worse, breaking her neck; disregarded it, because the others would see it as a sign of weakness (crossing his fingers, not the potential homicide). The same could be said for putting his hands into his pockets.

Instead he crossed his arms across his chest, trying to exude restraint, and tipped his head in her direction. In total, perhaps three seconds had passed since she had uttered the insult. “Why would you think I’m a leprechaun?” Robin asked, voice miraculously even despite the slow-boiling anger within.

Briefly, he wished he hadn’t cancelled his appointment with his therapist, but saving the city from villains tended to get in the way of neat, orderly scheduling, especially since they had no consideration for other people’s meticulous planning. A shame, that.

In return Raven lifted a single eyebrow at him. She knew the action was condescending, and that her easy manner would further irritate her leader, especially when she insisted on perpetuating something as idiotic as this. Because really, a leprechaun? What in the world could possibly have hinted to them that he could possibly be a foot-tall Irish fairy?

“You’re short,” she started, ticking off her index finger, “you wear green, your shoes…? It’s pretty obvious, Robin.”

Her reasons were pretty weak and she knew it; instead, she was relying on her teammates’ sheep mentality to back her up. In reverse order: he was wearing boots, which most definitely did not have any buckles on them, anywhere; plenty of people wore green clothing, and he did not only wear the one color; he also had red, yellow, black and grey; and he happened to be the average height for a male of his age, thank you very much.

Plus, Beast Boy was more green than he was, _and_ was both shorter and older than him!

The Boy Wonder prepared to say as much – perhaps not the part about Beast Boy – but caught sight of the others’ smirks, a near mirror of those the sorceress wore. Against his will and better judgement he yelled, “I am not a leprechaun!”

Seeing Raven flinch at his volume made him immediately regret losing his self-control. Both because he hadn’t actually meant to yell at her, it was really just a stupid prank she was playing on him, but also since long experience with the jokers that was his team told him that denial of any form only served to strengthen their resolve. The only answer was to put up with it until they got bored, unfortunately.

Robin opened his mouth to apologize but Beast Boy beat him to the punch; he sauntered over to the younger teen and put one arm around his shoulder in a mock-consoling manner. “It’s okay, brah,” he reassured, that stupid grin breaking through, “your secret’s safe with us.”

Forget the apology. Instead he pinched the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb, centering himself. _Relax, Robin_ , he told himself, _anger only strengthens them_. He counted to ten, took another deep breath for good measure, said, “Fine, whatever,” and resolved to ignore them for as long as this particular brand of foolishness lasted.

He remembered to snatch his coffee off the counter before someone else took it and stalked off to his room, but wasn’t fast enough to miss Cyborg and Starfire locking eyes and shaking their heads in dismay. Like he was in denial.

Well, reality check, you guys: he wasn’t a leprechaun.

 

Most of the time his room was the closest thing he had to a safe haven in the Tower that doubled as hell on earth. It wasn’t truly _Paradiso_ as the others could enter at any time they wanted – he was disbarred from setting traps ever again after the pumpkin incident, and locks of any fashion were disallowed in case of emergency – but he liked to think of it was his own little space.

Most of the time.

Once he had finished his mug of ambrosia, the gift of the gods, and set it safely aside, Robin started on his training. Normally he’d be doing it in the training room, because it was the _training room_ , but Raven’s latest scheme ensured that he would have no peace if he left his room.

First he started with the basic _kata_ , to stretch both muscles and memory, before moving up into the more complex forms.

His room wasn’t quite large enough for the multiple-step warm ups, so he was forced to move back before continuing each portion to allow himself the room he needed to complete each set; it was more luck than intention, then, that made him miss Starfire with his bo staff when she opened his door without warning.

Immediately Robin pulled the weapon back towards him, forgetting his place in the _kata_ in his reluctance and fear of hurting his teammate. “Sorry, Star, I didn’t mean to–”

“It is alright, friend Robin,” she waved off, drifting into his room.

The Tamaranian didn’t seem alarmed at all despite nearly having a steel pole jammed into her face; maybe it was a common occurrence on her home world? In any case, he set the butt of the staff onto the floor to avoid any more near-accidents. If he hit someone, he wanted it to be intentional.

Starfire smiled at him and suspicion began to creep in. It had been hardly a half-hour since the standoff with Raven, there was no way she had forgotten it in that time. Although, being looked at that way from his crush did feel pretty nice, even if it was to manipulate him. Which it probably was, since the daily shenanigans hadn’t been resolved yet, if the overall silence in the Tower was any indication. If it was, then there would be cheering, fighting or screaming going on nearby.

“I was wondering if you would like to come with the team to search for the creatures of the Saint of Patrick,” she said, her voice smoothly saccharine.

Oh, he would be honest with himself; the offer was tempting as spending time with a genuinely willing Starfire was always a plus in Robin’s book, but he hadn’t forgotten the look that she had shared with Cyborg, either. Thus it was a question of whether or not he was willing to weather whatever humilities were going to be undoubtedly enforced upon him by the other Titans, possibly by the alien herself.

So: probable humility but enduring it with Starfire nearby, or training without her? A difficult dilemma indeed.

Robin studied her, eyes narrow with suspicion. He had never heard of these ‘creatures of the Saint of Patrick’, which was likely a roundabout way of referring to leprechauns, imposed by her method of speech or by her other teammates. Or snakes. It could always be snakes. “No funny business?”

A shake of the head and hands, the latter forming X’s as they crossed. “No dealings of the funny, indeed.”

Probably her speech, then. One hand trailed through his hair; Starfire usually kept her word, since lying didn’t come as naturally as it did to her sister. Yet there were occasions where she was able to pull tales of deceit over overs, often at the behest or instruction of a friend – usually Beast Boy.

Another second of deliberation passed and he looked her square in the eye. “Fine. If anyone calls me a leprechaun, though…”

He chose to leave the threat unspoken and give the alien the chance to imagine whatever horrors he may inflict upon her for her duplicity. Not much, she mused; he was a mere human and she a Tamaranian princess, after all, and his infatuation with her often influenced any punishments that would otherwise be imposed upon her. Not always, but frequently enough that she held little fear of retribution from him.

Regardless, she sidestepped the implied violence entirely and said, “Come, Robin, we must hurry, for they will be leaving soon.”

For good measure she grabbed his arm where the glove ended and pulled him out of his room; he briefly allowed himself to revel in the contact before refocusing on where exactly he was being brought and put his feet back beneath him so he was walking to their destination, not being dragged.

She led him into the meeting room cum living room cum TV room cum just-about-everything-else-imaginable-room, save for bathing, dressing and cooking, though the other members were sometimes sketchy about the third.

Raven, who was facing in their general direction, was the first to notice the pair approaching and smirked at Robin, thankfully having the tact to refrain from commenting. Her other two male teammates had no such compunctions; they grinned at one another and prepared themselves for what was likely to be a huge song-and-dance about how they thought their leader was a leprechaun.

Not a single word got out before a large hand made of black-colored magic smacked them into the couch, its owner’s eyes demonic red. “Quiet you two!” she growled. “You got yourselves into this mess and no one has to help you get out of it.”

For once that day, Robin was happy to have the half-demon around. He looked pointedly at her and amended the thought to twice when she answered, “A leprechaun cursed them with bad luck and the only way to remove it is with another leprechaun’s gold.”

Of course. Leprechauns. Scratch that, Raven was a one-trick pony.

“I’m out.” Robin turned on his heel to return to his room, but a small, warm hand wrapped itself around his arm and forcefully dragged him away.

“But Robin!” Starfire, of course. “You must help, they are your teammates! And Raven says that a leprechaun can only be found on the Day of the Saint of Patrick!”

Also of course. He pulled his arm out of her grip, made only possible by the fact that she wasn’t truly trying to restrain him. “I’m not a leprechaun,” he reminded the room, “and I wouldn’t know where any would be, even if they existed.”

“Of course they exist,” Raven scoffed, and proceeded to spell into existence one of her many books. It opened without any visible command and flipped to a page that looked as indiscriminate as any other. The two jokesters picked themselves up off the ground to better hear her story. “They and their treasure can only be found at the end of a rainbow. Leprechauns only value their freedom above their gold so they must be caught by those seeking them; however, they are fond of outwitting their captors and will placate them with fake gold, which disappears at sunset. To have a chance at their real treasure, they must also be outfoxed.”

Robin raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Right.” He glanced at each member of his team and wondered again how they got themselves involved in such insanity. Just by being themselves, probably. “And what exactly did you need me for?”

Now Starfire looked distinctly uncomfortable, twisting a lock of hair between her hands. Beast Boy was toeing at the ground with the tip of one shoe while Cyborg pointedly looked out the window. Raven rolled her eyes at them all and crossed her arms over her chest.

For the second time that day Robin pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten. For good measure, he counted again. Twice. “Fine, but I’m warning you that I’m. Not. A. Leprechaun.”

 

It took some convincing, but Robin eventually, _reluctantly_ , he would like it noted as, allowed the team’s resident sorceress to use her magic on him to make him appear to be a leprechaun. He had first argued that they use Beast Boy instead, but she countered by claiming that the leprechaun curse would make him immediately identifiable as a human. That damned condescending smirk on her face said all that it needed to, though, and he wasn’t deaf to the snickers and half-gutted laughs that came from his teammates.

“Won’t they know I’m not Irish?” he grumbled to her as they walked through the city, looking for a rainbow to follow. The suit Raven had magicked onto him was at least a size too small, probably two, and extremely itchy. Right then he was trying to get a hand underneath the starchy collar to relieve a particularly irritated patch of skin.

“Nah,” she consoled him, the calming effect ruined by the twitching of her lips, “all they need to see is you. It’s the clothes that make the man, after all.”

What was probably his only saving grace and balm for his wounded pride was the fact that there were others on the streets dressed in green and orange, and that none of the civilians recognized him in the ridiculous outfit.

When Raven brought them to one of Jump City’s larger public parks, where a brightly colored rainbow cut through the sky overhead, Robin wondered why she hadn’t teleported them there since she seemed to already know where one was.

The shapeshifter of the group looked up at the kaleidoscopic arc and complained, “How are we gonna follow that? It’s huge!”

“We slide down it. It’s the fastest way to the gold, of course,” Raven scoffed.

She picked up her makeshift leprechaun using her magic, flew up to the zenith of the rainbow and dropped him onto its surface, putting herself behind him. Starfire, Cyborg and Beast Boy, who had taken the form of a bird, were just seconds behind.

Somehow they all slid down the curve of refracted light towards what appeared to be a more solid portion of the apparition. To Robin’s secret and unacknowledged delight, some pigeons flew into Cyborg’s and Raven’s faces halfway down, leaving them feathery messes.

Despite the steep curve where the bow approached the ground, the Boy Wonder landed in a roll and emerged unharmed from the fall. He thought he caught sight of someone else as he tucked into a roll (damn it) but had been moving too fast to be entirely sure. As he stood up and brushed himself off, a loud crunching sound behind him indicated that at least one of the Titans hadn’t been thinking on their feet and failed their entrance.

Sure enough, it was Beast Boy, who had transformed back halfway through.

While Starfire helped the injured shapeshifter stand, earning his leader’s jealousy, the other two confronted the stranger which had apparently not been a hallucination or trick of the light.

“Hey, leprechaun,” Cyborg yelled, “give us your gold!”

Now they sounded like pirates. Great. On the plus side, the being that was being accosted was undoubtedly a leprechaun with his shamrock green suit and hair the color of carrots. At his side was a black cauldron nearly spilling golden coins from its lip. The man in question seemed rather unimpressed with the Titans’ sudden appearance nor Cyborg’s demands.

“Why should I?” he asked, a definite Irish brogue affecting his words.

“’Cause we’ll fight you for it if you don’t!” Beast Boy jumped in, miraculously recovered from his misjudged landing. He raised one fist threateningly towards the creature; beside him, Starfire’s hands glowed menacingly.

“You’ll fight me, eh?” The leprechaun, because there was no point in trying to deny it, plucked a few coins from the cauldron and flipped them towards the other Titans as one would do to settle an argument. “There, is that enough for you laddies and lasses?”

Beast Boy raised his hand into the air and yelled, “Yeah! I’m cured!”

Raven smacked the coin out of his hand. “That’s fake gold Beast Boy. We need his real gold to cure you two.”

“Oh. Right.”

Despite the failure of his ruse, the leprechaun grinned at the heroes and gestured at Robin, though his gaze didn’t leave the larger group. “Why don’tcha ask your friend over there? He’d have enough gold for you all.”

Oh, Robin was done with this, all of this: the holiday, his team, the _leprechaun_ business. Everything. 

The Titans were saved from responding with some half-baked lie when the fairy was knocked down onto his back by a rust-colored flash. He threw his hands in front of his face in futile protection, screaming some nonsense about having his face torn off and not wanting to experience it again.

Opposite him the heroes prepared themselves to fight the sudden intruder (and hopefully earn some real gold in the process).

“Give them the real gold,” Robin said. Except, when Raven looked back, Robin wasn’t there. Or anywhere. “You have to be outfoxed, right? Well, you’ve been out _foxed_.”

It clicked and she dropped her hands, surprised. Starfire, clueless, said, “Robin?” She, along with the prankster duo, began calling out their leader’s name and searched for him, not that she, Robin or the leprechaun seemed to care.

The fairy in question made a face that suggested severe constipation and admitted, “I suppose I have been. Fine. Dig underneath my cauldron and you’ll have your gold, just let me go.” A moment passed, and the fox must have done something because he added, “I promise on my life. There, are you satisfied?”

That must have been because the fox jumped off the leprechaun’s chest and padded over to the cauldron. Raven, still somewhat incredulous, used her magic to move the cauldron several feet and watched as it dug a neat hole where it had been while the creature watched. In a few seconds the canid hesitated, pawed at something in the dirt, and looked at Raven. She started and stared at the black mask on its face; there was no doubt left in her mind.

Carefully, she knelt down and brushed at the dirt, unveiling the metallic shine of _aurum_. Gently Raven grasped at it and pulled the object out of the ground. It was a crock of gold, quite literally a pot formed of the precious metal they were searching for. She looked at the fox again, holding the invaluable kettle in both hands. It looked back at her, clearly unimpressed.

“I told you that I wasn’t a leprechaun,” Robin told her matter-of-factly. “I’m a fox. FFF-AAAH-XXX!”

“Does this mean I get your pearl?” the leprechaun interjected, looking quite hopeful. Both Titans glared at him and he backed off, both hands raised in a placating gesture. “Fine then, I’ll be on my way.”

He left, dragging along his fake pot of fake gold. Robin looked back at the sorceress and said, “Let’s keep this between you and me, shall we?” When Raven looked unimpressed, he added, “There’s the advantage of surprise, you know, against our enemies. And in prank wars.”

Raven thoughtfully considered the proposal and looked at the other members of her team. They were still walking around, calling for their ‘missing’ leader. When she turned back, he was human again. “If you do the laundry, then you'll have a deal.”

He considered it, thoughtful, and held one hand out, his grin unmistakably foxy. “Deal.”


End file.
